I thought long and hard about what I would title this blog. I looked through many different pages, websites, and runner’s blogs to see if anything would inspire me. I found several “fitmommies”, “motherrunners”, “marathonmoms”, and “marathonmamas” and was disappointed when I realized that most of my ideas had already been taken. Then I thought about why I decided to start writing this blog in the first place. I decided to write it for my 2 month old daughter Lucia. In fact, I run for my daughter Lucia. Actually, everything I do now I do for Lucia.
So there you have it…Running For Lucia!
You see, three years ago I ran my first marathon. My reasons for running back then were very different. I was very athletic growing up. My parents were athletic, I was always around active people, and my social life seemed to always revolve around some type of athletic activity. I played every sport you can imagine in high school, but volleyball was my passion and I played a short stint of volleyball in college. I hated running. The most we would ever run was suicide drills and the occasional 2k loop from the Lilly Athletic Center around College Street and Locust Street. When it came time to run our timed mile, which our coach wanted us to run in under 8 minutes, the best I could do was 8:21. I could set, I could spike, I could sprint, and when I would jump-serve I looked like I was flying through the air. But, I couldn’t run an 8 minute mile. I HATED running. In February of my senior year in college I found out that I had been accepted into Duke University School of Medicine’s Doctor of Physical Therapy program. My focus quickly changed. I became so immersed in preparing for Duke that I forgot what it was that actually got me into the program in the first place. When I began my first semester of graduate school I did nothing but study, eat, and sleep (well, mainly study and eat) and sent myself into a spiral of unhealthy habits. The studying wasn’t going very well either and I was beginning to believe that there was such a thing as studying too much. By the end of that semester I had gained 25 lbs. Now, that in itself seems like a lot of weight, but add that to my small boned 5’3 frame and you realize how enormous that weight gain is. I remember thinking that my days as an athlete were over. I knew that I had to do something to get control of my life again. I started working out, lifting weights mostly, and running/jogging/walking on the treadmill for cardio workouts. That summer I ran a 5k just for fun. The weight was starting to come off, I was starting to look and act like myself again, and I was doing much better in school. One day I was running the loop around Duke’s East campus and I just decided out of the blue that I wanted to run a marathon. My plan was to train for one, run one, finish one, and just be happy enough that I could put myself into the elite category of people who can say that they have completed a grueling 26.2 miles.
On March 24th, 2007, I finished the National Marathon in Washington DC in a respectable time of 4 hours 30 minutes and 29 seconds. I was addicted, I wanted to run more and more and more and more. I had gone from hating running to not knowing what I would do without it. My runs became my time to de-stress, my time to think about my day, my time to think about what I had accomplished, and my time to think about what I had yet to accomplish. Graduate school was all of a sudden easier, I was getting better grades, I was excelling in my clinical work, and I still had time to stay healthy and SANE. By the time I graduated from Duke I had run 4 marathons and 5 half marathons . I had met the love of my life, was in the best shape of my life, and had completed my clinical doctorate degree. Everything in my life had fallen into place, and I believed that it had all started with running. I was running for me. I was running for my sanity, I was running to stay in shape, and I was running to feel good about myself. I was running for me. I RAN FOR ME.
On July 11th, 2009 I made the best decision of my life, much better than the decision to become a runner. I married my best friend! Our first year of marriage proved to be whirlwind of events and emotions. We knew pretty early that we wanted to have children. The problem was, with all this running, I wasn’t ovulating. I thought something was wrong with me. I was by no means a skinny girl, in fact I would say that I was a little on the heavier side. I had strong legs and strong arms, and was this little stout power house. But, the running was starting to take a toll on my system. My OB suggested that I cut down on the running and see what happened. So, I cut down. Instead of training for a full marathon that winter like I had planned, I just trained for a half.
November 4th, 2009: Two pink lines! We were pregnant! And, by cutting down on my running I was barely pregnant and already had gained 8 lbs. The excitement of my pregnancy quickly turned into concern about my body, and about my running. I was supposed to run a half marathon in Kiawah Island on December 12th. So with my doctors approval, I continued to run. I ran a half marathon 9 weeks pregnant. I took it slow and finished with my husband by my side in 2 hours and 40 minutes. Except this time it was different. I wasn’t concerned about my terribly slow time, I wasn’t concerned about how pudgy I looked for pictures, and I wasn’t concerned that I probably wouldn’t run 13.1 miles again for a very long time. I felt incredibly accomplished. I had carried my child with me every step of the way. She had run that distance with me, and she had crossed the finish line with me. It was then that I realized that my reasons for running were beginning to change.
I continued to run short distances until I was 5 months pregnant when my OB advised me to stop. For selfish reasons I did not want to stop, but I did. I was, however, allowed to walk as much as I wanted to, and I continued to walk the mileage I had been running. I had family members who didn’t understand it; people thought that I was hurting the baby by doing so much activity. I’ll be honest and admit that I was insulted every time someone questioned my being active during my pregnancy. No one seemed to understand that what I was doing was good for my child. On July 7th, 2010… after a very healthy and uneventful pregnancy, I was induced. I had walked four miles the day before, not realizing that I was about to complete the marathon of all marathons; 49 hours and 39 minutes of labor. On July 9th at 9:39 pm, my daughter, Deborah Lucia, was born. She was this little 6 lbs 13 oz bundle of joy, and she came out fighting. She was tiny, but she was so strong already, and I couldn’t help thinking that she was just like her momma! I remember the doctors praising me for all the activity that I did while I was pregnant, while it did not make the labor any shorter (as people often say activity does) my body wasn’t as depleted as one would think after 49 hours of it. And Lucia was healthy and beautiful and perfect.
Three days after giving birth, I was walking 3-4 miles a day again. Two weeks later, with my doctor’s blessing, I began running again, and I was feeling great. Lucia was still too young and too little to take her with me, so I would run when my mother could watch her (Thanks Mom!) or when my husband got home from work. When she was about 4 weeks old I took her out in the jogger with me. The first run I did with her was slow, partly because I was getting used to running with the jogger, and partly because I am an over-protective new mother that crawled over every little bump in the road that we came across.
It has since gotten easier. Lucia is now 11 weeks old and she loves running with me. In fact sometimes I have to take her for a run because it’s the only thing that calms her down. I have begun training for my 5th marathon, and am 3 lbs away from my pre-baby weight.
After everything, I am still running. But today I am not running for me. I am running for Lucia. I am running because by running I am a better mother for her. I am running because by running I set a good example for her. I am running because it makes her laugh, I am running because it makes her smile, I am running because she lets me, and I am running because she runs with me. With every mile I complete, I show my daughter everything a woman and a mother CAN do, instead of letting her think that motherhood is an excuse for the things that women say they can’t do. So today I RUN FOR LUCIA, and I hope that one day she can look back and say “I learned a lot from my runs with Mom.”
